


perhaps in this universe it would be okay

by avintageoilpaintingofyou



Category: IT (2017), Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: M/M, Stranger Things AU, basically mike!richie I guess, eleven!eddie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-10 06:02:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13496294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avintageoilpaintingofyou/pseuds/avintageoilpaintingofyou
Summary: “One-hundred,” Richie repeated, for now the fourth time, “that’s your name?”Richie thought for a moment, “What about Eds? For short?”Eds smiled.-yet another stranger things au that no one asked for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> yes it is in fact another stranger things au. is anyone surprised? no. am I maybe disappointed in myself that I fell into this rabbit hole?? maybe. 
> 
> enjoy!

They took the young boy in. Seeming around the same age as the rest of them, they didn’t know his name, hell, he hasn’t even spoken a word since they arrived at the Tozier’s household. 

His parents were never home, so this was an ideal place for a hideout. 

“Is that blood,” Stan grimaced. 

“Stop it, you’re freaking him out!” Ben scolded. 

“ _I’m freaking him out?_ He’s freaking me out!” 

Richie whistled loudly, fingers between his teeth. Everyone stopped.  

“M-Maybe he’s deaf,” Bill shrugged, breaking the silence. 

Richie quickly tested out the theory by clapping in his face. 

The young boy flinched back. 

“Okay, maybe not,” Mike whispered, as he kneeled down in front of the stranger. Something about Mike’s presence, no matter who you were, was instantly calming. Richie could tell by the way the boy’s chest wasn’t rising as erratically as before, and found a slow steady pace. 

Thunder suddenly clapped in the distance. The boy flinched at the noise.  

Mike went to place a hand on the boy’s knee, but he recoiled. 

Mike quickly receded with his hands up, showing no harm. 

“We don’t want to hurt you, we just wanna ask you a few questions, okay?” 

The boy nodded slightly. His teeth clattering. Quickly Richie tore off his coat and threw it at him, not looking back as he left the room. The boy grabbed it and wrapped it around his small frame. 

“Okay . . . Have you seen a girl anywhere? Red hair, green eyes?” 

The boy shook his head. 

“Do you think he’s really connected to Bev?” Bill asked; Mike shrugged and met his eyes, “It’s worth a shot, think about it, we find this random kid in the woods the day Bev went missing. It’s too weird to just be a coincidence.”

Their direction turned back to the boy as his teeth began to clatter as Ben started asking his own question. 

“What about your parents?” Ben wondered.

“Do you have cancer?” Stan interjected. 

They continued interrogating him, him barely saying a word, answering rarely, if at all. 

They heard the door creak open to see Richie holding a fresh pair of clothes. 

They all stopped and stared at him. 

“What? Let’s give the kid a break,” Richie shrugged, “The ol’ chap’s freezin’ his arse off!” He declared in one of his Voices. 

Stan groaned. 

Richie walked forward and held them out to the stranger. “Here you go.” 

The boy grabbed it and lightly pressed it to his damp face, then stood up, about to lift his shirt—

“NO! OH MY GOD _NO!_ ” Stan yelled, immediately turning around. 

Richie laughed, and jerked his head to the side. “Change in the bathroom, brown eyes. Here, lil’ Richie’ll show ya the ropes!” 

The boy stood up, Richie now seeing how short he actually was—he was up to Richie’s chin, and Richie thought it was simply adorable. 

Without even thinking Richie hand pinched his cheeks as they walked out the door into the hallway. The boy without even flinching grabbed his wrist and pulled him away. Seeming annoyed, which just enamored Richie even _more,_ if that was even possible.

“Aw, sorry. I just can’t help myself, you’re just so _cute_.”

The boy furrowed his brows and stopped in the hallway. 

“Cute?” He repeated softly, as if not knowing what it meant. 

“Ah! He speaks!” Richie boomed, his voice loud against the boy’s ears. His shoulders tensed. 

Richie laughed apologetically, looking at him shyly, “Cute is just another word for pretty, brown eyes,” his voice noticeably softer now. 

The boy nodded, and mumbled “pretty” to himself, filing it away. He knew what that word meant. It was the word he associated with flowers in his picture book that Mama sometimes let him read. It made him feel something foreign in his chest, to be compared to something as lovely as a flower. He could almost feel a small smile start to pull at his lips. 

Richie stopped in front of a door, and opened for him, leaning against the frame. 

He gestured, “After you.” 

The boy was hesitant, as he glanced inside. He quickly switched the light on, and turned around to see the door was almost completely shut. 

Panic rose up in his throat as he threw his hand up to stop it.  

It did, Richie was on the other side of it, confused. 

“You don’t want it closed?” 

“ _No_.” 

“Oh, okay. Why don’t we keep the door like,” he began to close it slowly, the boy’s hand still gripped on the frame as if his life depended on it, “this,” he whispered. The door only a couple inches open. “Better?”

The boy nodded, “Alright, so when you’re done, just pop on out, k?” 

He nodded again. 

 

 

Richie entered the room to see his friends bickering. 

“W-What are we gonna do with him?”

“Do you think he’s connected to Bev somehow?” 

“Of course not! He’s crazy!” Stan reasoned.

“Guys!” Richie yelled. 

They kept bickering. 

“ _Guys!_ ” He yelled louder, now grabbing everyones attention. 

They all stopped and looked at him. 

“Alright, so here’s the dealio. Brown eyes is gonna crash here tonight. I’ll see if I can get him to talk. And with this mouth, you know I will—“ Richie took the opportunity to wiggle his eyebrows, “See if he knows anything about Bev or anything else and then, bam, we’ll go back to Bev hunting tomorrow.” 

“Do you think it’s a good idea for him to stay here? With you?” Ben asked, trying to be gentle, “I mean you could scare him really bad and easily freak him out. He already seems to be really fragile, and you can be pretty rowdy, and—”

“Ben,” Richie interrupted, putting his hand up, “don’t worry. I got this. Unbeknownst to you, I can be quite the gentleman.” 

“Yeah right,” Stan rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, _right,_ ” Richie corrected, “you wouldn’t know cause I’ve never busted a move on you, Staniel.”  

 

 

The gang helped him make a pillow fort in the corner of his room before they headed out in their respected ways. 

Mike clapped Richie on the shoulder, asking him if it was really okay for the weird kid to be crashing with him. Richie nodded, not mentioning how it would be nice to finally have so company in this lonely house. 

Stan shook his head, exclaiming that for all they knew the kid could be a murderer, or could have escaped from a psych ward. Or—

Richie stopped him and told him that if that were to happen he would bust out his mad ninja skills, with that Stan immediately went back to his usual state of annoyance with him that they both knew was just for show. 

Ben told him to be gentle with him. This kid seemed pretty damaged and to be careful. Make sure Richie was aware of how fast he was talking and moving. Ben had concluded that he was a victim of some type of abuse. Nothing interesting happens in Derry, and this was a big red flag. A kid, not talking or barely talking at all, flinching at anything and everything, made Ben worried. 

Though Richie reassured him that he would be careful, also not mentioning how he was all too familiar with the kid’s quirks. 

Bill handed him a few cough drops that was in the bottom of his bag, telling him to take one and give one to the new kid. Not wanting them to get sick. 

Richie smiled big and immediately popped one in his mouth then and there, and shoved the other one in his pocket. 

Richie patted him on the shoulder, he was the last one to leave, “Alright, Billy Boy, I got this don’t worry,” as he walked him out of the house. 

All of them hopping on their bikes, starting off down the street, the rain still prominent. 

“Call if you need anything,” Mike called behind his shoulder, as he rode away. Suddenly hearing choruses of, “Same!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Richie waved them off, he took a deep breath as he shut the door. 

He turned to find the kid nose to nose with him. 

It was Richie’s turn to flinch back. 

“Hey! Didn’t hear ya there, sweet cheeks!” Richie then went to pinch his cheeks again, and the boy huffed in annoyance. 

Then his stomach started to grumble. 

“Hungry?” 

 

 

The kid sat on the counter, his legs dangling at the edge of it, his lips blue with finishing a popsicle Richie gave him to tied him over, as Richie fried an egg in a pan. It was one of the quickest and most effectively filling things he knew how to make on such short notice. He slapped a square of cheddar cheese on it as well, adding some flavor, because out of all the things Richie was, he was not a savage. 

When it was cooked to his liking he slid the eggs on a paper plate and handed the kid a plastic fork. 

The kid took it hesitantly, his face scrunched up at the sight of the yellow mush. 

“C’mon, I just slaved away for a whole five minutes for you. Can you at least try it?” 

The kid slowly turned to him, disgust still evident on his face. _This? You’re really expecting me to eat_ ** _this_** _?_ How he managed to convey that with one single look Richie didn’t know. 

“Fine,” Richie groaned as he took his fork and stabbed the eggs and ate a piece, making an incredibly over exaggerated appreciation for his creation. 

He clutched his stomach and moaned in appreciation, “Oh my stars!” Richie declared in his coined southern belle Voice, “this is simply to most fantastic thing that has ever graced my lips. Honest to God almighty—”

Richie continued on his tangent, eyeing the kid as he was looking between the eggs and Richie. 

Though when he glanced over at Richie, Richie threw his head back again, still going on and on about how the eggs were the best thing to grace the planet. 

Then he saw out of the corner of his eye the kid taking a bite. He saw his eyes light up, and if that wasn’t the cutest thing Richie had ever seen, as the kid continued to garble down the eggs as if he hadn’t eaten anything in days (he hadn’t), Richie didn’t know what was. 

 

 

Richie was making the final adjustments to the kid’s tent fort when something dawned on him. 

“You know,” Richie started, gaining the kid’s attention, “It would be nice to put a pretty name to such a pretty face.” 

He saw the kid’s eyes downcast, and maybe it was the soft lighting, but he could’ve sworn he saw a light blush dust his cheeks. 

The kid sat up straighter as he pulled the sleeve of Richie’s sweater up he lent him, revealing a three numbered tattoo. 

**100.**

 

 

“So what does this mean?” Richie asked yet again, confused. 

The kid pointed to himself, yet a third time. Getting fed up with Richie’s incompetence. 

“ _One-hundred,_ ” Richie repeated, for now the fourth time, “ _that’s your name?_ ”

100 sighed in relief, Richie was finally getting it. 

“Okay. My turn. The name’s Richie, but people _usually_ call me—” he stopped himself, seeing how this kid looked at him, he didn’t know how he knew, but he knew 100 would completely trust and believe him. If it was anyone else he would’ve used this to his advantage to get a good laugh, like he was just about to now. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. 

Richie then did the most unlike Richie thing and stopped making a joke mid-joke. He quickly changed the subject. 

“You know what? Never mind. How about this. Can I make a nickname for you? You know, so it would be easier to remember and more like a real name?” 

He cringed inwardly at what he said. Stan was right, there really was no filter between his mouth and his brain. 

But 100 looked eager, and almost excited. 

Richie mumbled under his breath, leaning back on his hands as he sat next to the boy,  as he thought, “One. Hun, Dred. Huh, you don’t wanna be called hun, do ya, hun?” 

Richie laughed and pinched his cheek, as 100 slapped his hand away, seeming almost used to his antics. 100 then moved his hands, _Keep going,_ he was saying. 

Richie stroked his chin as if he had a long beard there, “One, Hun, Der, Ed,” he said, sounding it out now. Then it dawned on him. 

“What about Eds?”

As the words left his lips something inside of Richie told him that 100 would tell him he hated it, that every time he would say it, 100 would tell him not to. But when Eds smiled softly and nodded, Richie felt a knot loosen in his chest. Perhaps in this universe it would be okay. 

“Okay, Eds,” he smiled, and stood up, heading for his bed. He pulled his damp jeans off and threw his shirt in the corner of his room, tugging on another one laying on his bed. Right as he settled in his bed, curling himself with his blanket, about to turn off the light he called, “G’night, Eds.” 

He heard a soft, “Night, Richie,” in response and if it was possible to make his heart smile, it would’ve. 

 

 

 

 


	2. Its Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First encounter with It.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen .... i didn't think I was gunna post another one,, but here we are ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
>  
> 
> pacing??? idk her

Richie's eyes flew open, his skin slick with sweat, and gulped in air as if he was on the verge of drowning. He was stuck, his body flailed against the grip but it was no use, fear pulsed through his veins, he couldn’t move he couldn’t move _he couldn’t move he couldn’t move hecouldntmovehecouldntmoveHECOUDLNTMOVEHECOULDNTRUN—_

He hadn’t processed he was screaming until he saw Eds crawl out of the tent and practically lunge toward his side. Eds frantically pulled at the sheets that wound around Richie’s body.

Once he was free he sat up too quickly and smacked his head with Eds. They both groaned in pain. 100 rubbed his forehead and looked up at Richie. 

“Richie,” his voice soft and laced with worry, though the words seemed clunky in his mouth, like he was trying all his might to dislodge them from his throat, “What’s wrong?” 

Richie lifted his head and finally met with the softest Bambi eyes in the whole damn universe. So much caring in just one look made him break eye contact. It was too much. His hands dragged along his face, “ _Fuck,_ Eds.” He croaked, his voice hoarse and rough. 

Then reality slowly started to seep and settle in his brain. His mind not completely rid of the surreal-ness that is waking up from a dream like that. His defense mechanism kicked in mid sentence, he didn’t want to be this vulnerable. He chose to continue, “I could give you a list. But I’m sure you have better things to do.” His voice almost gave at the end, but he still tried to play it off as a joke, ignoring the fact that barely a minute before he was screaming until his lungs gave out. 

Unsurprisingly, it fell flat. Eds frowned, then reached out and swiped his sweaty bangs from his forehead. “Bad dream?” He tried. Richie surprisingly leaned into the touch the mere second it was there.

He closed his eyes then, but as if the dream was stuck on the back of Richie’s eyelids, the piercing yellow eyes were staring back at him again. Haunting and All Knowing. He remembered feeling like it was dissecting every single atom that he was composed of, that it saw _right through him_ , but also everything he was all at once. It made his hair stand on end. 

Richie heaved a breath in his sore lungs, he shook his head, “I’m fine, Eds just—”

Richie raised his head to be met with those same yellow eyes lingering right behind Eds. Before he could think Richie opened his mouth and screamed. Pure fear pulsed through his body. Working off pure instinct he wrapped his arms around Eds shoulders and yanked him off the bed, trying to pull him behind him. 

Despite his small frame Eds was strong, shockingly so when he resisted Richie’s hold, and stared down that clownfucker straight in the face. 

They stood there in a tense silence (aside from Richie’s soft chanting of “ _Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit_ _!_ ”). Neither of them moving, though the wicked smile that was burned in Richie’s mind grew and grew, its teeth sharp like daggers, glinting off the moonlight. 

It took a step forward, opening his mouth to say something when Eds threw his hand out, and suddenly the clown was thrown back against the wall. Cracks punctured the wall on impact. Its head was thrown back, its smile quickly turning into a grimace, but it caught Richie’s eyes and that same gleam was back again. 

“ _I got her y’know,_ ” it practically _singed_ for something that was being in an equivalent to a Force chokehold. 

Anger bubbled up in his chest, his mind going a mile a minute, “Where’s Bev? Where’s Bev, you bastard! Where is she?!” 

It only smiled in response. It unnaturally lolled its head to the side, the wicked grin slowly making its way onto its face. The walls suddenly began to ripple.

They smelled it before they saw the portal peeking out from behind the clown. It wafted through the room, it was rotten and spoiled. Richie physically gagged at the smell. He pulled the neck of his shirt over his nose. 

Richie coughed, trying to catch his breath, the smell almost too much when—

A high pitched sound tore at his ears. Richie lifted his head up to find that it was 100. He had began to scream, a war cry. The veins in his forehead and neck bulging from his skin. Blood trickling from his ears and nose. His muscles taut.  

Richie’s jaw hung open in shock as he saw this boy use all the strength he could muster to push it into the portal. 

The realization suddenly dawning on him he glanced around his room and found a bat leaning against the corner. He grabbed it, his hand tightening around the base. He couldn’t let him handle this on his own. 

With that final thought echoing through his mind, Richie screamed as he threw himself toward the clown, hitching the bat back over his shoulder and ramming it so hard against the clown’s stomach that he could’ve sworn he saw it shrink. That only made him more eager as he continually beat it with a bat. They were winning. 

Richie saw out of the corner of his eye how Eds began to step forward in confidence. Its power weakening with each blow to the stomach and the continuous force of Eds-whatever-the-fuck. 

Pride swelled in Richie’s chest. _Fuck you,_ Richie thought as his bat came down hard on the clown’s receding form. The lower half of his body was sucked into the wall. All that remained was its chest up. 

Then in a blink of an eye its talons were wrapped around Eds throat. Richie cried out _No!_ before he could even think. Its eyes bored into Eds intensely. Eds clutched his hands around the clown’s fingers. Choking in pain. 

It was now or never. 

Richie wailed the bat over the clown’s head. “GET OFF OF HIM!” 

Then as if it was never there it was gone. 

Richie screamed as he threw back his bat one more time, not seeing it had disappeared and chipped the wall. “Fuck,” Richie cursed. 

Then he turned, out of breath, “Eds are you okay—”

Eds was still in the air where It had held him. Almost _floating_ for a split second, before hitting the ground with an audible _thud._

Richie launched toward Eds. He pulled his shoulder back revealing his almost gray skin. Blood leaking from his nose, it ran over his mouth and down his neck, staining the neck of his shirt. 

“Shit shit shit shit _shit.”_

Richie leaned down, he felt Eds shallow breath fan his face. Richie then got to his feet, pulling Eds by the armpits. “Stay with me, asshole. Stay with me.” 

All he got was a faint moan in response as Richie dragged Eds down the hallway to the bathroom. 

Richie pushed Eds up by the lip of the tub. He flicked the light on, it winking out slightly for a moment before it stayed on. Eds chin was tucked in his chest. 

Richie crouched down in front of him. “Jesus Christ,” he whispered, carefully taking Eds face into his hands. He lifted his head up slowly. Richie looked over Eds face. Eds moaned, his eyebrows crinkling in pain. 

“Don’t die on me, Eds. Don’t die.” Bile coated Richie’s throat, the adrenaline wearing off now, now more than fully aware that he was alone, in the bathroom begging his friend not to die. Blood and sweat mingling on his skin. 

Richie leaned forward, practically begging, “Can you let me see those brown eyes, Eds? C’mon, open those pretty eyes for me.” 

Eds mumbled something. 

“What?” 

“ _It hurts,_ ” Eds whimpered. 

Richie eyes racked down on his neck. There were burns coating his neck. Undoubtedly from the clown. “That fucker. Hang tight.” Richie warned as he hooked one of his arms underneath his legs and the other slithered across his shoulders. Richie wasn’t strong by any means, but Eds was light. It would be concerning if he wasn’t too concerned with Eds actually dying on him. 

Literally how the _fuck_ did this happen so quickly? 

Richie as gently as he could settled Eds into the tub. Eds whimpered softly, hissing at his body adjusting to the coolness of the tub. 

Richie leaned over and turned on the shower, letting the cold spray hit Eds. He tensed initially at the cold. Richie patted his head, “Stay awake.” 

Because _fuck,_ he didn’t know what else to do. 

Without wasting anytime Richie all but flew out of the bathroom, stalking toward the house phone. He picked it up and was about to enter the number before it dawned on him. 

He had no idea who to call. 

Calling the police was out of the question. The hospital? Hell no, they ask too many questions. 

It took him a solid minute before deciding, he dialed in the number. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH!
> 
> im pure trash sorry to leave y'all hangin like that
> 
> lemme know what you guys think
> 
> and guess who richie calls ;)

**Author's Note:**

> hope you liked it! 
> 
>  
> 
> (lol but in all seriousness comments are my livelihood, and I might make this into a full blown series but I'm not too sure, so let me know! ty!)


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